


forgiveness, can you imagine?

by nbsherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, mary and baby are gone inexplicably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbsherlock/pseuds/nbsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>everything is different. irreperable. </p><p>--</p><p>john comes home and everything is quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forgiveness, can you imagine?

it's quiet. 

sherlock stares at the ceiling. before, it wasn't this quiet. john would wake in fits and starts and pound down the stairs to drink a glass of water and calm his breath. sherlock would be able to hear him tossing and turning in his sheets. 

now, it's quiet. 

sherlock knows, with all of his mind, that john is upstairs. where he ought to be. but it's so quiet. 

sherlock swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits there for a while, breathing. it's so quiet. he has to. he just has to check. 

it's 4 in the morning and sherlock walks from his room to john's, careful to keep the stairs from creaking. 

the door is open a bit, so he pushes it open and. of course john is up here but. it's so quiet and he's so still and sherlock has a moment where he is sure john has died, just died in his bedroom. just months after moving back in. 

john rolls onto his back in his sleep and takes a shaky breath. 

sherlock feels like an idiot. 

he creeps back down the stairs and stands in the center of the sitting room for what feels like hours. then, he lays on the couch, if only to be closer to john, to strain his ears to hear the shifting of his bedding. he falls asleep. 

\--

john is sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper when sherlock wakes up. usually, john would have a strop over sherlock sleeping on the sofa rather than his bed. 

today is just the soft turning of pages and the sound of his own breath. sherlock gets up from the sofa and walks to the bathroom. he brushes his teeth and stares at his face in the mirror. 

everything is different. irreparable. 

\--

lestrade calls with the first case after months of nothing. sherlock was content with nothing in favor of watching john settle back in to the flat. 

sherlock thinks about asking john to come along but. surely john must have heard his conversation with lestrade on the phone. he would have asked about it. or invited himself to come. instead he sits on the couch and flips through television channels. 

he doesn't say a word when sherlock leaves. 

\--

"where's john?"

"home."

silence. 

"everything alright with you two?"

no. 

"yes, of course."

\--

it's open and shut. entirely frustrating. a two. but sherlock would have taken anything. anything at all, to get out of the oppressive silence of the flat. 

he loses his breath with this revelation. he ducks into an alley wall and huffs in ragged breath. 

he doesn't want to go home. 

for the first time, he just doesn't want to go home. 

\--

he sits in regent's park for hours until the sun sets. john never texts or calls. sherlock thinks maybe he could stay out for weeks with no contact prior and john would not even notice he had left. 

ironic. john goes to new zealand, sherlock asks him for a pen. sherlock leaves the flat, john lives on. 

he rents a room in a hotel. 

\--

Where are you? MH

Fcuk off 

Sherlock, just answer the question. MH

hotel

Where? MH

dont know

Why are you checked into a hotel? MH

\--

sherlock wakes up with a pounding headache with a bottle of whiskey lying next to him in bed. 

john's favorite. chosen subconsciously. 

\--

he checks his phone and despite a drunken conversation with mycroft, there's nothing. 

\--

he stumbles home at 2 in the afternoon and limps up the stairs. the gunshot wound and subsequent ripping of stitches, along with the mental trauma of being shot by one's best friend's wife, have given him a slight limp in times of heightened stress. 

\--

john is out. 

gone. 

\--

Where is John? SH

How could I possibly know the answer to that question? MH

Don't be dull. Tell me where he is. SH

Now. SH

Please. SH

A pub down the street. I would not advise visiting him. MH

When did he leave? SH

Two hours prior to your arrival. MH

\--

john is day drinking. sherlock considers phoning harry. 

he ultimately decides this is a bad idea. 

\--

john comes home drunk at 4pm. 

he has to steady himself on the stairs 8 (9? 10?) times. he slumps against the door frame. 

for a moment, sherlock thinks he means to speak to him. 

instead, he vomits on the sitting room floor. 

\--

john cleans up his own vomit in a drunken haze and takes a shower. he's in the bathroom for a long time and sherlock worries he has fallen asleep or unconscious in the shower. 

he sits on the couch with his hands clasped in his lap for 30 minutes before the water shuts off and john comes out in his dressing gown. he yawns and limps up the stairs. 

\--

when john first moved back in, sherlock thought rebuilding their friendship would be an easy task. 

within hours he knew he was mistaken. 

\--

the first words john speaks to sherlock are in a drunken fury, months after his return to baker street. he screams at sherlock. tells him he ruined his life. says, if you had never come home. says, if you had never left. lodges an empty bottle of whiskey at his head. it smashes against the wall and leaves the flat in stunned silence. 

john doesn't apologize. he goes upstairs and falls asleep. 

sherlock checks on him several times to make sure he hasn't choked on his vomit in his sleep and died. 

\--

john carries on the next morning like it never happened. 

he makes breakfast for himself before showering and brushing his teeth and leaving. 

\--

Where is he going? SH

Not a clue. MH

Keep watching him. SH

\--

Pub. MH

\--

sherlock waits up, again. 

\--

"you're a right bastard, you know that?" john slurs. "you go off to get yourself killed and i don't even know it. then you come back and get killed by my bloody wife. then you get on a fucking plane to get yourself fucking killed and try to kill yourself in the process." john slides his hands into his hair and tugs. "are you that determined to leave me alone?"

it isn't anger anymore. john stands in the center of the sitting room and breaks into sobs. 

sherlock doesn't know if he's allowed to answer. he doesn't. 

john cries for a while and then goes upstairs to sleep. 

sherlock checks to see if he's died. 

\--

john wakes up the next morning and says, "good morning."

sherlock stares in silence before returning it with a hoarse, "good morning." it feels like clearing cobwebs from his throat. 

john's eyes dart to sherlock and stare at him. sherlock doesn't notice he's on the phone until after the fact. 

\--

john has a girlfriend. 

she has long blonde hair and leaves lipstick stains on his collar. she has long nails that she digs into the back of john's neck while he's fucking her. 

john stops coming home. 

sherlock never even had a chance to keep him. 

\--

he sits on the sofa. motionless. the world feels like it's spinning fast around him and he's caught in the middle, frozen. 

his hands shake with untapped energy. somewhere between this and john's footsteps he destroys the flat. 

\--

"what the fuck have you done?" they are the first sober words john has said to him. 

sherlock has just finished smashing an erlenmeyer flask. 

he looks down at his hands. they're bleeding. he says, "i don't know."

"i don't know."

\--

john tugs him to the bathroom and sits him down on the lid of the toilet. 

he pulls shards of glass out of his skin and stitches up the larger wounds. 

he does it all in silence, but the tension around them is so thick it sounds like screaming. 

\--

sherlock gets called on a case and gets shot. once, in the leg. he collapses. the suspect runs away and lestrade finds sherlock, bleeding out in an alleyway. 

"you're a bloody idiot."

it almost sounds like john. sherlock comments on this, loopy from blood loss. 

lestrade looks at him. he looks sad. sherlock wonders why. 

\--

he wakes up in hospital. 

john is sitting by his bedside. he is staring at him. 

sherlock jolts awake. his heart rate leaps. 

he tries to sit up but john says, "lay down."

he does. 

\--

when he wakes up again, john is still sitting there. this time he has a cup of coffee (not hospital coffee. lestrade?) in his hand. 

"how dare you."

sherlock blinks, wondering if he really heard that, or just imagined it. 

"what?"

"how fucking dare you. i yell at you for dying over and over again and cry in the middle of the fucking sitting room and you go and get shot?"

sherlock blinks. he doesn't bother saying it wasn't his choice to get shot. he's sure john knows that. he's just. irrationally angry. sherlock tries to remind himself of that. 

"anything? are you going to say anything?"

sherlock says, "you haven't spoken to me in months."

john leaves. 

\--

mycroft is there the next time sherlock wakes up. 

"wasn't my fault," sherlock says. 

mycroft rolls his eyes. "i wasn't going to say it was. you are never to blame for getting shot, sherlock. don't be ridiculous."

"john thinks i am."

mycroft looks at his hands. "sherlock..."

sherlock narrows his eyes. 

"i would advise you to ask john to move out. it is clearly not doing either of you any good."

sherlock says nothing and rolls his head over to face the window. 

"just think about it."

mycroft's hand clasps sherlock's shoulder before he leaves. 

\--

sherlock wakes to shouting. 

his eyes open to see the window. it's dark out. 

the voice vaguely registers as john's. 

"i don't bloody well care if it's after visiting hours. let me in."

john is slurring and yelling and sherlock considers trying to walk to the door and tell them to let him in. 

he rings the buzzer to alert the nurse. 

she walks in and asks if he's okay. 

sherlock requests that they let john in. 

she glances towards the door. 

"okay, mr. holmes."

\--

"they wouldn't let me in," john slurs. 

"i know."

"i don't like elizabeth."

his girlfriend, presumably. 

"okay."

"do you care?" john says. 

"that you don't like your girlfriend?" sherlock asks, puzzled. 

john nods. 

"it's not any of my business."

john looks down at his hands. 

"i want to talk to you when i'm not drunk," he says. 

"i want you to talk to me when you're not drunk."

john looks at him. 

"i'll come back tomorrow."

\--

john keeps his promise. he comes back the next day with a cup of coffee and a permanent grimace, probably the result of a hangover. 

"how are you feeling?" john asks. 

"like i've been shot." he smiles. 

the corner of john's mouth quirks up. 

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

john stares at him. 

"for not talking to you."

sherlock stares back. 

"it's fine."

"no it's," john runs a hand through his hair. "it's really not fine. i didn't talk to you for months after i moved in, par when i was shitfaced."

"yes."

"i'm an arsehole."

"no."

john glances at his hands. 

"i started missing how things were, again. at first, i was angry. at you, at mary. at everyone, for just. leaving me and lying to me. and i kept telling myself not to talk to you. not to forget that i was angry."

john pauses. 

"and then i started missing it. all of it. body parts in the freezer, tagging along on cases, writing about you in my fucking blog." john closes his eyes. "i was almost grateful when you tore the flat apart because i had a chance to do something like i used to. even if it was just stitching up your hands." john's eyes fly open. "speaking of which. show me them."

the biggest scar has healed. his hands are fine but john still traces the scars, frowning at them. sherlock has to suppress shivers. 

"i'm sorry."

sherlock looks from their hands to john's face. 

"i accept your apology. i'm sorry as well."

john laughs. "for what? not speaking to me when i come home at three in the morning and vomit on the carpet?"

"for getting shot again."

"that was stupid of me to say. it's not your fault you got shot."

the words echo his brother's. 

"god," john buries his head in his hands. "i'm such an idiot."

sherlock doesn't know what to say. 

"i wanted so badly for things to be the way they were before..." john pauses. "before." he smiles at his lap. "and i just fucked it all up. i don't know what i thought i was doing. i didn't even try to fix things, to make them normal. i just. kept ignoring you. and sleeping through the day and drinking all night and fucking-- vomiting on the carpet and dating some girl who. you know, i don't know the first thing about her," he laughs. "i don't know anything about her." 

sherlock stares at the wall. 

"and all i wanted was for things to be normal again. and i just. made them as far from normal as they could be." john looks at sherlock. sherlock turns his head and looks back. "did you want things to be normal?"

sherlock's throat feels tight and dry, like he may start bawling if he even attempts to talk. 

he nods. 

then he starts crying. 

john stares at him, eyes wide, helpless. 

then he starts sobbing. his chest heaves and his breath catches in his throat. and john just keeps looking. 

sherlock keeps crying until his chest aches, until it feels like he has nothing left to cry about. 

then he closes his eyes and starts to fall asleep. 

john says, "i'll be here when you wake up."

\--

sherlock wakes up and immediately starts talking, shocking john out of whatever comatose state he was in. 

"i didn't know how to fix it."

"it wasn't yours to fix," john smiles, pained. "i was the one fucking everything up."

"i should have at least tried."

john shakes his head. "with the state i was in? no, you shouldn't have tried."

it's quiet. 

\--

sherlock goes home on a rainy tuesday. 

john sits in the back of the cab with him and his hand fidgets in the middle seat. he keeps looking like he's contemplating something. it's a bit ridiculous to watch. 

they climb the stairs. sherlock has to lean on john to get up. 

it's the closest they've been in months. 

sherlock limps to his chair and collapses into it. his chest huffs with strained breath. 

"want your pain meds?"

"half a pill," sherlock agrees. 

john gives it to him and sits down in his chair across from sherlock. 

"i've been thinking."

sherlock looks at john. he has noticed he has been thinking. 

"i've been thinking and. i've been going about this all wrong."

sherlock tilts his head. 

"i don't want things to be the same."

sherlock feels his heart sink into his feet. crack into pieces. 

"i want." john looks at him. "jesus christ, sherlock, breathe."

he does. 

"i want things to be different."

john smiles at his hands. 

"i want. cases and breakfast in the morning and bond nights and chinese takeaway and for you to never get the groceries."

that sounds the same as it was before, but sherlock doesn't point that out. 

"but i also want. more. than that." john nods. "i wanted more all along but i was so scared of asking for it when we didn't even have normal back."

"more." sherlock states. 

"yeah. i want." john stands up and walks over to sherlock and it feels altogether like the earth crashing into the sun and the planets aligning when john leans down and kisses him. "i'm an idiot," he says against sherlock's mouth. 

"you are," sherlock says back, sounding incredulous. 

\--

they sleep in the same bed. the night is less quiet in such close proximity. john shifts in his sleep and sherlock can hear the slide of the sheets. he can feel them.

**Author's Note:**

> uh so. i wrote this all in one go over 2 hours at 8am on my phone. so. apologies for any mistakes. i'm sure there are tons. im over on tumblr @nbsherlock.


End file.
